Shackled
by Light1
Summary: Chained and alone could Alucard truly be defeated.


**Shackled **

Disclaimer: Castlevania belongs to konami not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Alucard . . . then he'd be mine.

Rating: PG-13

Part: one of one

Setting: Post Daw of Sorrow, but AU XD.

Authoress note: Adrian wonders what went wrong.

**Shackled**

Adrian had spent the last few hours thinking about handcuffs. Some bonds were physical, like those that now held him to the wall. But some were metaphorical like those that bound him to continuously repeat his attacks on his father despite the futility of it. The physical and the metaphorical. The literal and the abstract all binding him. the abstract bonds such as, duty, belief and responsibility were intangible. But they lacked nothing for being incorporeal. in fact Adrian believed that those incorporeal bonds were stronger than the physical. Physical bonds could be broken with a simple effort of strength, or a moment of trickery. But the intangible bonds were in your mind, they were usually created by yourself and were much harder to bend or break. He was sure some people would disagree with him. Those who had made the shackles now holding him to the wall would probably be first in line. The thought made him smile as he cast an eye up to them. They looked like simple iron shackles but they were not. They smelled like a thunderstorm, and burned him like lightening. He pulled against them despite already knowing he would not be able to break them. He was only hurt himself by pulling. the shackles burnt into him and the smell of blood and burning flesh began to permeate the small cell. He sighed and stopped pulling. the wounds closed slowly, far slower than they should. It was typical really, that his strength would be waning, that his stomach should be cramping with the pains of being empty and that his teeth should be cutting into his own lip in an effort to feed him. It was not a surprise. It was one of his father's oldest techniques. To wear his enemy down, starve his enemy of food, of sleep, of love and touch. It was all a ploy to wear him down and bind him. It was not the first time his father had shackled him to a wall, but the way things were looking now it may be the last.

He had always wanted to break free from his father. from as far back as he could remember. He had always wanted to be free, but he had never been able to break the ties binding them together. This was his own doing. He had tied himself to his father more firmly with his defiance, than he ever could have with his complacency. Dracula had never needed to expend any energy in keeping his child close to him. he had never needed to bind Adrian. Adrian had always come to him willingly. always in anger but always willing. The shackles that held him to the wall were strong, unbreakable at least by him. But ultimately they were unnecessary, Adrian knew he could not leave and Dracula had to know this as surely as his child did. The physical shackles were completely unneeded. But then Dracula had always felt the need to visualise what he knew to be true, the shackles while unnecessary to hold him did serve a purpose of sorts. They were a reminder, a catalyst to deep thoughts and a demonstration of power. A show of Dracula's power over his child, Dracula's power over his environment. Perhaps Dracula thought showing power made him feared, or perhaps he thought his power would set him free. Adrian was well aware the Dracula was as bound as everyone else. His father had always been bound and he had always felt the need for visual reminders of his bindings. At least that was what Adrian had always believed, but lately he had begun to doubt that, he began to think perhaps the visual reminders were not reminders but were symbols of what Dracula thought would free him. They were symbols of strength and through strength you gain power, through power you gain freedom.

Adrian laughed at the idea his father would be so foolish. All the power in the world would not free the king of vampires from what truly bound him. The sooner Dracula realised that the sooner the world would be a better place. For it was his hatred that bound him tighter than any rope, his hatred and his fear. Adrian knew his mother had freed him in a way. Her love and his love for her had broken his hatred. Yet while freeing him she had bound him tighter than ever before. Her love was cherished and he was terrified of losing it. Fear it seemed was just as tight a rope as hatred and Lisa's death had made Dracula's ropes into razor blades. Razor blades that cut into the world as well as the vampire king, those blades reached out into the world and cut into the Belmonts. Thus the Belmont became bound, Trevor and Richter had suffered greatly at the binds of the vampire king, but they had been great men and they had broken those bonds. They had freed themselves, so why could Adrian not? No matter how much blood was spilt, no matter how many times Dracula 'died' Adrian was still bound. He was bound, so why should the binding not be visible to the eye, why couldn't he always walk around with his binds as clear as day? Why did everyone not wear their bindings openly? Why do we all live in denial of our own ropes? In that way at least the shackles were almost a comfort to Adrian.


End file.
